


Inked.

by sourlupa (moonlightwriters)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bottom Derek, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Shamanism, Spirits, hale fire still happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightwriters/pseuds/sourlupa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sorry if you don’t mind me asking, but...what exactly does it mean to be a shaman?” The amount of genuine curiosity in Derek’s tone and expression made him want to raise his hands and shout “Hallelujah!” Nobody had ever seemed this interested in what he was doing.</p><p>“It’s basically having access to the other side, being able to contact benevolent and malevolent spirits. No, actually, it’s more than that. You can influence the spirit world as well. Of course, there’s a natural order of things. You can’t just go around changing whatever you’d like. You need to have a reason to go there, and you need to be able to give something in equal value of what you plan to take. It could be anything, really. Information, a certain spell..it all just depends.” Stiles took a long gulp of his coffee before continuing, smiling at the way Derek’s eyes were trained on him so fiercely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inked.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! Okay, so I've already posted this chapter in two parts on tumblr, but now I've decided it's collectively long enough for one chapter. I will update more frequently on tumblr, so check there before you refresh here if you really love this fic. (Which I hope y'all do!) Anyways, you can find me on moonlightwriters.tumblr.com :)

Stiles got his first tattoo when he was fifteen years old. It was a simple design, just enough size and detail to help him with the air-based spells he had been having trouble with. Soon after, he quickly discovered how helpful it was to have tattoos when you’re a magic user. For his sixteenth birthday, his dad let him get a memory tattoo. It took a lot of convincing, but the winning argument sort of made him feel like a shitty son. It got his dad to agree. I wanna be able to remember her, dad. Her smell, her hair, her laugh...they’ve already started to fade. I just wanna remember. That one, he got right over his heart. Any time he found himself thinking about her, he’d touch it, and everything would come back in crystal clarity. He’d always cry, but he ended up smiling every time, just remembering.

Now, at twenty-two and fresh out of Berklee College of Magic, he had twenty-seven tattoos and counting. Some for protection, some for spell enhancing, others just for shits and giggles. They all had meaning, whether it be of magical significance, or a drunken inside joke with some of his friends. He loved every one of them, and knew he would never regret them.

Stiles ran his tongue over his lip ring as he walked, breathing in the small town air of Beacon Hills, California. He was visiting his dad for a few weeks, not really knowing what to do with himself after graduating. His dad was at work at the station at the moment, and he had been bored out of his mind. So naturally, the first thing that came to his mind was to go out and get a new tattoo. 

And that’s exactly why he found himself in the only tattoo parlor in town at two in the afternoon on a Thursday. A little bell at the top of the door rang as he entered, looking around the shop. A door behind the front counter opened, and the most attractive, drool-inducing man Stiles had ever seen came out and stood behind the counter. He had dark, gelled-up hair and olive skin, and the first words that came to Stiles’ mind were Greek god. He was wearing a tight black wifebeater, dark jeans and combat boots. Stiles wanted him. Hell, he’d suck the guy’s dick right there behind the counter if he asked nicely. 

Stiles felt a tingling sensation on his left hipbone, right where the small outline of a wolf was inked permanently onto his skin. This guy was a werewolf. Of course, that just made him seem even hotter to Stiles. He’d hooked up with a few lycans in college, and they were definitely the best shags he’d ever had. 

Stiles walked up to the counter slowly, giving the man his most flirtatious smirk. He leaned onto the counter, resting his weight on his forearms and lacing his fingers together loosely. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Stiles just about died. This guy’s voice was perfect. Deep and rumbling, but still smooth. 

“I’m looking to get a tattoo. I know I don’t have an appointment or anything, but I was hoping you guys took walk-ins?” Stiles asked optimistically. 

“Yeah, we’re usually pretty dead during the day, so I can take you in.” He turned back to gesture at the door behind him. “Come on back, I’ll get you situated.” Stiles grinned as he walked around the counter, following Mr. Greek God into the back room. He sat in the chair in the middle of the room and watched as the man came to sit on a stool beside him. “You know what you want, I’m assuming?” He looked at Stiles’ forearms, littered with tattoos, some trickling up past where his red hoodie sleeves were pushed up.

“Yeah, I was thinking a kanima detection sigil. I had a nasty run-in with one during my junior year, and I totally could’ve avoided the whole situation if I had known who he was.” Stiles ran a slightly shaky hand through his tousled hair before continuing. “I know I want it on my right hipbone, too. I was thinking white ink.” Stiles paused to catch the guy’s eyes. “Can you do that?” The amount of unashamed flirt Stiles had put into that last question had surprised even himself.

“Of course,” The guy grinned. “My name’s Derek, by the way. What’s yours?” Derek. So now he knew his name. This was a good start.

“Stiles.” He may or may have not whimpered a bit at the way Derek pulled down the right side of his jeans to expose his hip. 

Derek smirked. “I’m guessing that’s a nickname, because no parent in their right mind would name their child Stiles.” Stiles made a noise of protest at that.

“Hey, my name is a great name. It’s just...really hard to pronounce and kind of embarrassing, so it’s easier to go by Stiles.” He crossed his arms triumphantly, jumping slightly when the buzzing of the needle started. 

“Whatever you say, Stiles.” Derek began outlining with that smirk still plastered on his face, and Stiles’ grip tightened slightly on the armrest of the chair. “I wanna know your real name, though.” Stiles was a bit surprised at that, but he didn’t say anything and Derek didn’t push afterwards. They stayed silent the whole time Derek inked him, no sound but the buzz of the needle, tick of the clock on the wall, and the deep intakes of breath Stiles was laboring through his nose.

Stiles studied the scowl that slowly formed on Derek’s face as he worked. His eyes were slightly squinted, brows furrowed together, jawline tight. A very defined jawline. One Stiles would very much like to mouth at. Possibly bite. Stiles leaned his head back onto the headrest, barely stifling a groan. If he got a boner now, it would be extremely awkward, and he would probably never be able to speak to Derek again. And he wanted to. 

But it was more than that, too. Stiles could faintly smell smoke, a phantom scent due to a tattoo he had gotten a while back to help his senses. Of course, it took a weird turn, so he only picks up scents related to traumatic events, and they’re usually so faint he doesn’t even notice. With Derek, however, the scent grew stronger the longer he stayed near him. It intrigued him. He wanted to learn about Derek, pick him apart and know what made him tick. He could sense the aura Derek gave off, and it was unlike anything else he’d ever come across. The only other time he’d felt a positive aura that strong was when he was around...his mother. 

After almost an hour, Derek turned the needle off and grinned, admiring his handiwork. It was weird, how interested in Derek he had become when they’d barely spoken, but Stiles was really good at using his magic to get a sense of people.

Later, while Stiles was paying, Derek cleared his throat and eyed Stiles cautiously. “So, maybe you’d like to use your magic to know more about me over coffee sometime?” Stiles sputtered, his cheeks and ears slowly staining red.

“I-how..You-”

“I know you know I’m a werewolf. I can smell it when you use magic. There’s this sort of metallic scent, almost like blood, but...sweeter.” Stiles gaped at him as he continued, looking amused at Stiles’ surprise and embarrassment. “I also figured you were gay, considering the way you totally checked me out as soon as I walked through that door.”

Stiles walked out of the tattoo parlor with a new tattoo, plans for that Saturday afternoon, and a new contact on his phone. Needless to say, he was more that happy with his life at the moment.

\----------------

Stiles woke up on Saturday with a knot in his stomach and a ridiculously hard dick. A certain broody, dark-haired, alpha definitely had something to do with that. He wanted nothing more than to take care of himself, but he knew if he did the smell would linger for at least the next twelve hours, no matter how many showers he took. He looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table and almost fell off his bed, arms flailing everywhere in an attempt to untangle himself from his cocoon of blankets. He had exactly twenty-seven minutes until he needed to be at the coffee house where he was meant to meet Derek. The coffee house that just happened to be all the way across town.

“Shit.”

\----------------

Stiles was only ten minutes late, but that’s only because he was lucky enough not to get pulled over for speeding. He walked into the small coffee shop and spotted Derek almost immediately, switching between checking his phone and staring at a coffee cup sitting across from him with longing. Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch himself or pinch Derek’s cheeks. The guy was just too damn cute for his own good. He walked over to the little table Derek was occupying, next to a window with a nice view of the California skyline. Once he got within five feet, Derek’s eyes snapped up, and you could see the tension melt right off his face. Stiles was screwed, because this man was too much, and he wanted more.

“Uh, hey. Sorry I’m late, I was just uh, I woke up late.” Wow. How old was Stiles, thirteen? He doesn’t get nervous in front of guys anymore, no matter how simultaneously sexy and cute they are. This could turn into a problem.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I was..I uh, I sort of thought you weren’t going to show.” Derek’s ears turned red as he rubbed at the back of his neck subconsciously as Stiles sat down hesitantly. He picked up the coffee cup in front of him and sniffed the hole in the lid, almost dying right then when the sweet scent of mint and chocolate filled his nostrils.

“How’d you know I liked mint chocolate chip lattes?” He asked, smirking into the lid of his cup while he took a long drag.

“I uh, I smelled it on your breath the other day.” And if it was even possible, Derek was blushing even harder. Stiles put his coffee down, grinning down at the table like an idiot. He touched the owl tattoo on the top of his left index finger subconsciously, a nervous habit he picked up when he’d gotten it just before exams his freshman year during college. 

When he looked up at Derek, his eyes were already trained on Stiles. “So what do you do, Stiles?” Stiles sighed, a grin twitching on the corners of his lips.

“I just graduated last month, so I’m looking to get fully certified as a shaman. I take my last state-issued test tomorrow, actually.” Derek’s eyes widened minutely, and he seemed to be...impressed. That made Stiles’ heart do funny things. He tried to ignore it, but it kept coming back the more he talked to Derek. He pushed it aside anyway, favoring to finish his explanation. “If I pass that, I’ll be Shaman Genim Yevjevich ‘Stiles’ Stilinski.” He laughed into his coffee as he took another sip. “Mouthful, isn’t it?” Quite frankly, Stiles had no idea why he told Derek his real name. Not even his second best friend, Erica knew it. The level of trust he developed so quickly for Derek didn’t scare him, and that was what scared him. 

“Sorry if you don’t mind me asking, but...what exactly does it mean to be a shaman?” The amount of genuine curiosity in Derek’s tone and expression made him want to raise his hands and shout “Hallelujah!” Nobody had ever seemed this interested in what he was doing.

“It’s basically having access to the other side, being able to contact benevolent and malevolent spirits. No, actually, it’s more than that. You can influence the spirit world as well. Of course, there’s a natural order of things. You can’t just go around changing whatever you’d like. You need to have a reason to go there, and you need to be able to give something in equal value of what you plan to take. It could be anything, really. Information, a certain spell..it all just depends.” Stiles took a long gulp of his coffee before continuing, smiling at the way Derek’s eyes were trained on him so fiercely.

“To become a shaman, you need to become sick; to be able to understand sickness. A shaman is a healer, a storyteller, a bringer of light. But you have to know the meaning of darkness, illness, tragedy. It sort of brings out the best and worst in you. You need to have an acute sense of divination, finding spirit guides and omens...stuff like that.” Derek looked about ready to explode, it seemed he had so many questions. “Anything else you want to know?” Derek thought for a moment, tapping his index finger on the side of his coffee cup.

“Do you have a spirit guide?” Stiles smiled at the question, because he did.

“When I first went into the spirit world, I almost didn’t make it out alive.” Derek looked shocked and confused, but Stiles kept going. “The spirits have to test you, have to see if you can handle the darkest parts of the darkest corners in the darkest rooms. It’s...scary. I was in a coma for fifteen days.” Stiles sighed softly, fingering the wolf ring on his right index finger before continuing. “I met her after a few days of roaming around, seeing things I still can’t get out of my head. She came to me in her wolf form, so I knew she’d been a werewolf in her mortal life. She saved me from myself.” Stiles didn’t really feel like delving any deeper, the memories of that particular spirit walk not very pleasant.

“What was her name?” Stiles looked up from a small spot on the table he’d been concentrating on, biting down on his lip ring.

“Hmm? Oh, her name’s Laura.”


End file.
